


i'll be seeing you

by disasteratsea



Series: tiptoe through the tulips [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:51:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disasteratsea/pseuds/disasteratsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can't keep his mind off her, the beautiful girl who charmed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll be seeing you

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Tommy Dorsey song of the same name.
> 
> I've had this half finished for ages and I've finally gotten passed that writers block. It kind of got away from me.

His little sister Becca would call it destiny. There’s three pages of a letter for her folded up in his journal about meeting Natalia. It’s cold, it reads, but the bar was warm and I met the most beautiful girl. Becca’s always been a romantic girl at heart, he knows she’ll clutch the letter to her chest and call it love at first sight. Bucky won’t say he’s in love, but there’s something there – he thinks of Natalia in the quiet moments, her smile and her light footsteps and the warmth of her.

The guys have been on him about Natalia for weeks. It’s only to be expected after all the years of giving Steve hell about girls, but he isn’t lovesick like Gabe says. If he’s any kind of sick it’s homesick. He longs for the tiny apartment he shares with Steve, with the creaky floors and drafty windows, his Ma and sister and the streets of Brooklyn.

“Come on guys, leave him alone.” Oh thank God for Steve “It’s not his fault he’s in love. I think it’s cute.” That punk.

“I am not in love.”

He’s not, and he’s not pining either, because Bucky Barnes does not pine.

They’ve been trekking through the wilderness with runny red noses, eating rations and secretly worrying about bears for weeks now, if he’d rather think of a pretty girl instead of his numb fingers than who could really blame him?

And, oh, was she pretty.

Gorgeous.

She made Ava Gardner look plain.

He was not pining for her.

\--

He thinks he sees her at the edge of his vision sometimes, in crowds of people, between the shadows of buildings, she’s never there when he tries to find her and it leaves him feeling strangely despondent.

She’s just a girl, he tells himself but it feels like a lie.

Once he goes so far as to rush back to look into the window of a shop he thought he’d seen her in.

It’s stupid. He feels like an ass when he sees the group has stopped to wait for him.

Bucky’s ears are red from embarrassment instead of cold.

“Something catch your eye back there, Buck?”  Steve’s grin is full of laughter when they set up camp.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

Steve sighs. “Look, it’s not a bad thing.”

“What are you talking about, Steve?”

“I’m just saying,” he sits down beside him, far enough away from everyone that no one will hear them “I know you. I know what you’re like with girls. And this girl, you might’ve only met her once, but it’s different with her. You’re different. Things are hard now, if this Natalia does anything to make things better for you, than I think it’s a good thing.”

Bucky smiles and shoves at Steve’s shoulder. When all this is over they’ll go back to that bar and try to find her. “You’re such a sap. You ever think of writing greeting cards?”

“You’ll thank me for being such a sap when you name one of your kids after me.” He laughs.

“Yeah, we’ll name the dumb one after you.”

“Jerk.” Steve laughs and pushes him hard enough that Bucky falls from his seat. The both of them are still getting used to this new strength of Steve’s.

\--

There’s a forest, a dirt road, at some point there’s a bridge over a muddy river. Bucky’s not all that sure where they are anymore, what he is sure of is that his boots keep getting stuck in the mud, his coat is starting to soak through from laying in the snow, and that that he’s hungry. He’ll follow Steve wherever he goes, even if it’s a pain in his ass.

“Hey, at least it’s not raining.” Steve says because apparently he just really likes tempting fate, which is no news to Bucky, who’s been pulling Steve’s scrawny ass out of the fire for years. It starts to rain, of course, and then it starts to pour, and then they can barely see two feet in front of them.

“Now might be a good time to make camp, perhaps somewhere dry and with a roof; just a thought.” Falsworth calls out through the downpour.

Steve looks back at them with water running over his face and his eyes squinting to see them all standing there looking like drowned rats (Bucky would prefer to be called a drowned cat or dog, because he likes them better than the rats they would find in the apartment back home), and sighs. “Good thought; I think I saw a barn a ways back.”

Bucky throws his head back with a relieved sigh as he turns on his heel. Thank friggin’ God, he thinks, all he wants is to sit down and get warm.

The barn smells like horse shit but that’s to be expected, it is, after all, a barn; what isn’t expected are the people they find already crowded inside.

\--

There’s a standoff between the two groups, lately everyone’s been on edge, the cold and hunger and general wariness of strangers all brought on by the war have only been getting worse.

The other group, Russian by the sounds of them, are just as suspicious of the Howling Commandos as they are of them. They’re just as wet too, but they’ve already got a fire started in a steel drum. Bucky’s tired, and really just wants to dry off and maybe sit down on something soft for awhile. He doesn’t think that’s too much to ask. He’s a good guy, generally speaking, and he thinks the good that he does makes up for the bad, so it would be nice, if the guy upstairs would just cut him some slack for once.  _Just this one time_. The hair that refuses to stay out of his face has actually started to freeze, dammit.

He’s just had a really bad few days.

Steve signals to lower their weapons and tries to calm the whole situation down, explain that they’re all on the same side. But even his exhaustion is starting to show, and the big guy in the front of the group of Russians just stares him down.

“No English.” Dugan mutters.

No, because that would just make things too easy.

 -- 

If Bucky’s learned anything it’s that life is full of surprises.

Just when he’s resigned himself to trudging back into the storm and making camp under a tree or something, the mustachioed brute in the front turns to call for someone at the back of the barn, and out comes his Natalia, not that he’s been thinking of her as his, because that would be all kinds of creepy and he hasn’t been thinking of her as much as everyone claims he has, but still, its Natalia from the bar, with the red hair and the stunning smile. She walks out looking mildly irritated, with her hair hanging loose and wet passed her shoulders, wearing some worn men’s clothes that hang off her frame.

She looks around at the situation and says something to the man who called her and gives the group a pointed look when they don’t lower their guns, which they then do immediately.

Fate, as Becca would say. Steve might say too, if the way he keeps sticking his pointy elbows in Bucky’s side is anything to go by. Subtlety had never been his strong suit.  _Yes_ he sees her Steve, you can stop drawing attention now. Pain in the ass.

But then she sees him and smiles his way and Bucky is instantly grinning despite Steve’s sharp elbows in his ribs and the ice in his hair. “Hi there.” He says, he sounds like a fool to his own ears but he’s a little too stunned by her being there to be as charming as usual.

“James.” Her voice wraps itself around his name and he’s never been all that fond of it but she makes it sound beautiful, like it’s something special, like _he’s_ something special.

“Hi.” He says again. _Idiot_. Some of the guys snicker behind him.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend, _James_?” Morita says behind him, the grin clear in his voice. He’s going to be hearing about this for the rest of his life, he’s sure of it.

There’s a flicker of amusement in Natalia’s eyes as she takes stock of the men. “Natalia Alianovna, pleasure to meet you.” She introduces herself sweetly, tossing a curtsy in with a secretive smile.

 --

They’ve got their socks and outerwear hung up over the empty stalls to dry and Bucky has wrapped himself in his standard issue, incredibly scratchy, wool blanket, trying to hold in as much warmth as he can. Being cold is something that Bucky’s grown accustomed to over the years; the apartment back home is drafty at the best of times, prone to leaks and power outages. He’s always focused more on making sure that everyone else is warm enough.

He’s never been quite this cold though. With bits of ice freezing in his hair and a legitimate concern of frostbite.

They’re lucky to have found the barn at all. Luckier still that residents were friendlies. The language barrier has the commandoes keeping to themselves, clustered together around the fire trying to figure out where exactly they are on the map. Problem is the map seems to be wrong – with roads misplaced and towns missing altogether.

Natalia sits beside him, draping another blanket over his shoulders and pressing a tin cup of something warm into his hands. She had disappeared soon after they first arrived to check on one of the men from her group who was ill.

It’s tea, she tells him, from her own private stash.

Now, Bucky’s never had much taste for tea, but it’s warm in his hands and stomach and she’s sharing it with him and him alone.

“What’s a dame like you doing in a place like this?” he grins at her and he can see her bite the inside of her lip, fighting a return smile. His charm had come back to him when the feeling in his toes had.

“Same as you I would think. Trying to escape the storm.” They’d had to barricade the flimsy barn doors against the winds, Steve made short work of the task, easily lifting barrels and crates to stack up. The group of Russians had all been amazed by his strength; one of the younger men shouting in words Bucky couldn’t understand and rushing forward to inspect the heavy objects, looking for the trick.

Natalia had stifled a laugh when the young man returned to the group, speaking quickly in excitement. “He says your friend must be a Strong Man from a circus.” She explained, eyes scrunched up in amusement. Bucky had laughed loudly at that, never in his life had he thought he’d see Steve mistaken for a strong man, of all things. “I think he must be wrong.”

 --

Natalia’s laugh is loud and deep, completely unrestrained and Bucky is mesmerized by the look of her when she does it. Her head tipped back and eyes scrunched up so much it would be easy to mistake them for closed, she smiles with her mouth wide and showing all her teeth. She’s beautiful. They sit away from everyone else, caught up in their own world as they speak in near-whispers, heads tucked close together. Bucky tells her about his four sisters and his mother, his late father and baseball, Brooklyn and Steve. “He looks like he can take care of himself.” She says when he tells her about how Steve could find a fight wherever he went. He supposes he can, now, and how can he explain that just a few short months ago Steve had been five foot nothing and so skinny a strong gust of wind could bowl him over. Natalia tells him of Stalingrad, before the bombs and before the raids, of how she loves to dance, and of how she learned to speak English by watching films and reading books and practicing every day. She tells him of how she had been travelling, on her way to France, when the war broke out.

“Back home we have dancehalls.” He tells her, and she lights up when he describes the bands, loud and lively, playing for all the dancers. He would go almost every weekend after work, he tried to drag Steve along with him but his friend wasn’t much for dancing. Never danced in his life, he tells her with a nod over to his friend, sitting with a notebook open in his lap on the other side of the fire with the boys. Natalia seems almost personally affronted by the information by Steve’s lack of dance experience.

“I’d like to see one of these dancehalls.”

He’d like to take her to one, he doesn’t say. He’d like to take her anywhere she wants to go, really, she only has to ask. He doesn’t say that either. “Well if you’re ever in New York I’ll take you.” Is what he does say.

“Well,” she looks up at him from beneath long lashes “it’s a date, then.”

A throat clears beside them, and when they look up, Bucky is face to mustache with the big guy from before. He narrows his eyes at Bucky before turning to say something to Natalia, handing her a tin of something and stalking off to continue watching them with suspicion from the other side of the barn, as he’s been doing all night.

In the tin is something that looks like meat, but you can never be sure with field rations. It’s good to know it isn’t just _theirs_ that are unappetizing. “Stroganoff, they claim.” She says. The one Gabe tosses him is meant to be ham, he thinks. He likes to close his eyes and imagine his moms cooking instead. She’d have a fit if she saw what they were being fed.

She’d wave whatever was handy around and say: First they send you off to war, then they try to kill you themselves with that garbage. How do they expect you to fight anyone like this?

“He seems friendly.” Bucky gestures to the big guy with his can of so-called food “should I be worried about him trying to kill me in my sleep?”

Wind whistles sharply through the roof of the barn and Natalia’s grin is a wicked little thing when she says “not with so many witnesses”.

Oh, this girl.

Her grin turns into something softer, something quiet and fond. “That’s just Ivan”, she says of the man “He’s protective is all. And you’re one to talk. Your friend has been sneaking glances at us all night.” They all have, Bucky can’t imagine anyone not wanting to look at her, but he knows she means Steve, who’s been watching them since they got settled in. Dum Dum’s made himself a neat little bed of hay, with his feet propped up on his pack and his hat pulled over his eyes, and Gabe’s taking the time to write some letters while Morita reads a battered paperback novel and Denier and Falsworth chatter between them. Before Steve would’ve gotten away with staring, but he’s not so easy for people to overlook now, and he doesn’t think Natalia would’ve missed him even if her were still little.

“I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing behind his ear “do you want me to talk to him?”

“Nonsense.” She says, rearranging her own blanket. “Captain Rogers,” she calls.

“Ma’am.” Steve startles, starting to blush at having been singled out like a school boy being called on in class when he hasn’t paid attention.

“I’ve seen some of your films. I have to tell you, you’re much more impressive in person.”

If he wasn’t blushing before he sure is now. Steve’s red from the tips of his ears to his collar. “I – uh. I. Thank you. I didn’t think they showed those over here.”

“They don’t.” She says. “But even here they tell stories of you, and you’d be surprised just what people can manage to smuggle over the borders. I had thought Captain America to be purely American propaganda, I’m pleased to see I was wrong.”

Steve ducks his head and smiles. Aw, shucks, Bucky can imagine Steve saying.

“Careful. Don’t want him thinking too highly of himself.” Bucky jokes, trying to save Steve from whatever embarrassing thing he’s about to say. By the look on his face is would’ve been a doozy. You’re welcome, he thinks.

“Watch yourself, _James_.” Steve responds with a grin to match his friends. “I am your commanding officer.”

Men, Natalia sighs, and asks if anyone wants to play cards.

\-- 

By the third or fourth hand they’ve got a sizable group playing, and someone, he thinks it was the young Russian man who he learns is named Boris, brought out a bottle of booze that they’re passing around. Bucky kicks Dum Dum’s feet until he wakes up, because he knows they’ll never hear the end of it if they don’t ask him to join and a game’s always more fun when Dum Dum Dugan’s playing.

Natalia translates when needed, which isn’t often. It turns out that the language barrier isn’t much of an issue when they’re playing cards and drinking. Boriska, as Natalia calls him, is excitable and animated when he talks, looks too young to be fighting in the war and probably lied about his age, but a lot of people do that, Natalia says. What else are they supposed to do?

They gamble for cigarettes and food because they haven’t got much else to bet and Bucky doesn’t get caught cheating once.

He still doesn’t win, because Natalia has an unbelievable poker face and he’s distracted with her right there besides.

“Oh, dear.” She says sweetly and pats him on the cheek “looks like I win again.”

Ivan watches them from the edge of the fire’s light, leaning against one of the stalls and looking thoughtful. They’re all laughing at Dum Dum when Ivan clears his throat behind Steve and they stop dead to look at him. “Let me see your map.” He says in heavily accented English.

“Sonofagun.” Dum Dum says. And Bucky has to agree with the sentiment because, yes, apparently Ivan has been able to speak English the whole time. Steve hands over their carefully folded map dazedly and Ivan asks where they’re meant to be going.

Beside him Natalia smiles softly. She shrugs when he looks at her with all kinds of questions on the tip of his tongue, the foremost of which being why Ivan pretended not to understand them and why she didn’t say anything about it.

Ivan marks on the map where they are, and again where they’re going. They leave a lot off the maps to make it harder for the Germans to find the cities, he says, but it didn’t work. He adds in some roads and gives Steve directions, telling him what roads to avoid.

“Thank you.” Steve says, still a little stunned but earnest.

Natalia taps on his shoulder and Steve turns to her “ _Spasiba._ ” She says with a smile and tips her head to Ivan.

“Spasiba.” Steve parrots. Ivan nods sharply and disappears back to the edge on the fire. It means thank you, she explains.

“What just happened?” Morita asks. Bucky would also like to know, so would the rest of them for that matter.

“ _Son of a gun_.” Dum Dum says again. “He spoke English the _whole damn time_?”

 --

Gentle hands brushing through his hair wake him. “This is a much better sight to wake up to then I’m used to.” He says to Natalia, who’s leaning slightly over him. Her hair’s dried into curls that brush his chest and face. “I must be dreamin’.”

Natalia pulls him to his feet and quietly leads him away from the others, checking to make sure they’re still asleep. If they aren’t they at least have the decency to pretend to be sleeping, those friends of his, always so considerate. “I’m no dream, soldier.”

He stops himself from saying anything stupid, like _you’re always in my dreams_ or _sure seems like a dream to me_. It’s a pretty near thing though.

“Prove it.” Is what he says. And Natalia smirks and pushes him so he falls back onto a pile of hay, following soon after and kissing him full on the mouth.

“Real enough for you?” They’re both out of breath, and he just knows he’s got a stupid grin on his face but he never thought this would happen, that he would see this girl again, let alone kiss her. This is too good to be true, except that it is true. So what does that make it? _Fate_ that mocking voice that sounds a lot like his sister whispers.

“Yeah.”

 --

They wake to quiet and the beginnings of sunlight peaking in through the loose boards. The storms over, which means that their break is over. Bucky wants badly for it not to be, to be able to stay in the barn for another day or two, or forever, and leave when the war’s over so they can go back to living. He’ll bring Natalia with him, and take her out dancing like he said.

There’s hay sticking out of his hair and cloths, from where he lay in it the night before.

He must be the last one up, there’s so much movement around him. People packing up. Talking.

“Clothes are dry.” Someone says.

Steve’s and Gabe are going over the map with Ivan and Natalia, making sure they have everything right.

It’s like the spell of the storm has been broken, and so with it is the feeling of calmness. They’re nothing if not efficient, and by the time the suns is fully in the sky everybody is ready to leave. It almost looks like they weren’t even there. Almost.

The two groups are headed in opposite directions, so they shake hands and say thank you, it was nice to meet you, best of luck.

But Bucky lingers with Natalia while his friends wait, giving them some modicum of privacy. He doesn’t like goodbyes, never knows what to say.

“I have something for you.” Natalia says. He’s only a couple of inches taller than her, so she doesn’t really have to look up at him, but her head is tipped down so that she does and she fiddles with something in her pocket, pulling out a soft looking piece of fabric. A pale blue and white kerchief that was repurposed from her favourite scarf, she tells him and presses it into his hand. “Here,” she says “for luck.”

It’s as soft in his hand as it looked in hers.

“I don’t have anything to give you.” Bucky says, like this is the worst crime he could commit, but he has nothing. There’s nothing on him that’s personal. Nothing that means anything.

Natalia smiles that same soft smile he saw the night before when Ivan was marking their map.

“James” she says, their fingers curl together around the softness of the kerchief and her lips press softly against his cheek. It might just be the cold but his skin burns where she touches him. “You don’t have to give me anything.  I’m glad I was able to see you again.”

He has to smile at her, “me too” he says and butts her forehead with his affectionately. “You have no idea how much.”

She smiles and pulls away. “You take care of yourself out there.”

Her people are growing impatient calling her to hurry it up. His must be too, but haven’t said anything yet, probably because Steve told them not to.

Natalia turns to go and Bucky realizes with fleeting panic that he hasn’t said goodbye yet. “Wait.” He calls after her, and as she turns back toward him James reaches for her arm. “I thought of something to give you.”

Bucky Barnes had always been a man of action, better at showing rather than telling. So he pulls her to him, wraps one arm around her waist and snakes the other up her back to tangle his fingers in her hair, and kisses her with everything he’s got. Natalia gasps into the kiss, presses herself closer still and grabs his lapels.

He’s beaming when they come up for air. “I’ll find you again.” He promises.

Natalia smiles that beautiful smile of hers. “Not if I find you first.”

 --

Bucky had looked back as they walked until they couldn’t see the barn anymore. Then he’d tied Natalia’s kerchief around his wrist. The Hydra base they’re headed to is a few hours out and this time they’re on the right path.

“Hey.” Steve says, falling back to walk beside him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” And he is. He’s okay. Good, even.

“You know, ladies used to give knights handkerchiefs as favours.” Steve says lightly.

“Jesus H. Christ.” Bucky mutters in good humour, and then asks what the Hell he’s talking about.

“She gave you her handkerchief. It’s romantic, is all.” Steve had always loved romance, he just hadn’t experienced it much himself. “I like her.”

Ahead of them Dum Dum turns around. Walking backwards he lets them know that he and the rest of the guys liked her too. And that she’s so far out of his league that they’re not even playing the same game.

Shaking his head Bucky runs his thumb along the kerchief at his wrist. “They’re never going to lay off are they?”

“Those guys?” Steve gives him a look at is all Brooklyn “Never. I thought you’d be a little more broken up about leaving.”

“Nah. I’ll see her again.”

“You think so?” Steve’s got that curious look that he used to get _before_ , when he was little and Bucky was overly optimistic about things.

“Yeah, I just, I dunno, I can feel it.” He gestured to his chest, where his heart beat so fast when he saw her that he could feel it in his throat.

Steve’s looking pretty pleased about things, with a dopey looking grin. He hands Bucky a folded up piece of paper and claps him on the back.

It’s a drawing of the two of them, Bucky and Natalia, sitting by the fire with their tin cups of tea and smiling while they talk. He’s captured her smile just right. “I just thought, you know, you might feel down after we left and would want to see her or somethin’” Steve says, pointedly not looking at him. He always gets embarrassed when people see his drawings.

“You did this last night?” Bucky asks softly. He laughs when Steve nods his affirmation. “Thank God, this makes you staring at us so much less weird.”

“Oh shut up.” Steve’s ears are turning pink. “Do you want me to take it back? I’ll take it back.”

“No!” He holds the picture to his chest and turns slightly to keep it out of Steve’s reach. “No. Thanks, Steve. I mean it. Thank you.”

Bucky’s feeling pretty good about things. He’s well rested, dry, having a laugh with his best friend on his way to kick ass. He’s going to see Natalia again. Until then he’s got a letter to finish writing. Becca, he’ll write, there’s this girl and I think I love her. Maybe there’s something to the fate business after all.


End file.
